


Warm Spice

by azure7539



Series: Azure's 007 Fest 2019 [14]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 007 Fest, 007 Fest 2019, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 22:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20033407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azure7539/pseuds/azure7539
Summary: Q bakes muffins, and Bond tries to eat them all.





	Warm Spice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [christinefromsherwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/gifts).

> **christinefromsherwood requested:** _“if you find yourself inspired by the sentence: “Hmmm, you taste like cinnamo- How many muffins have you stolen from the gift basket for M, 007?!” I think, here’s an opportunity to prove that you are not in fact possessed by the angst!demon, az :)”_  
  
Jokes on you, christine, maybe I am the angst demon MUHAHAHAHA LOL

It’s flu season, and by the time it gets to Mallory, it’s already circulated _everywhere_.

And okay, maybe it wasn’t Q who infected M with the goddamn, blasted virus, but it is likely… considering that he’s pretty sure he’s _accidentally _sneezed on one of the folders that were supposed to go to M’s office… 

Nothing that he’s too proud of, but he’s making up for it by bringing in homemade banana and cinnamon muffins (and _please_, they’re completely germ-free, he swears—he’s not that awful) to contribute to the Get-Well gift basket that the office has managed to cobble together (once they’ve stopped trying to commit murder to their noses).

“Hmm,” Q sighs, leaning into the kiss that Bond has pressed to his lips and making sure that they stay well within range of one of the last remaining blindspots in the building. “You taste like cinnamo—”

The warm spice licks against the walls of his mouth and lingers on the tongue, warm and inviting and familiar and—

Then it clicks.

“How many muffins have you stolen from the gift basket for M, 007?!” Q separates from the chaste kisses with the intensity of zapping electricity, and Bond looks like the cat who got the cream.

Almost quite literally, the arse.

Bond even has the nerve to shrug. “I might have eaten _other _products with cinnamon you know.”

“Yes, and you haven’t been drooling after my muffins since morning,” Q deadpans then shots Bond a long, serious look.

It takes a moment or so before Bond eventually murmurs, “Maybe two. Or three.”

Q sighs, satisfied. “Could’ve just told me that you wanted to eat them.”

“I didn’t want to make you go through the extra trouble.”

At this, Q shakes his head and leans in to capture Bond’s lips again. The silly man. “It’s never trouble unless I’m chest deep in sleep deprivation.”

Well, the muffins are good contributions to the gift basket, sure. 

Only if there’s any of it left by the time it gets to Mallory anyway. 


End file.
